Category: Essay

Truly this is the endeavor of futile vanity. Taking time to write any of this. Totally self absorbed. Yet a journey should be documented. Why else take the trip? I have dropped from the Ma… Source: Moments & Mirrors

…the following is an excerpt from a new collection of essays I’m writing gathered together under the heading of Home. The Check Out Lane It’s odd packing up a house, a home. This was the third home my wife and I had owned in the Nashville area. It was the home we planned on…

Way out in the Western world, far on the other side of a long forgotten road you will find an old sage who hears you approaching even before the wind wrapping around your heels announces your coming three moons prior. Without looking up, barely spoken in a whisper, almost silently as it were… he says…

After all of my writing from the last 10 years, save a few pieces here and there, is now confirmed as lost, what have I learned? A few practical things: I have a good friend who calls me a tree hugging folkie. I wouldn’t qualify that as a complete or total description of the man…

MS. ELLEN IS AN OLD black woman, dark skinned. I imagine she is somewhere in her seventies. I’ve known Ms. Ellen for years. She knows me too. Ms. Ellen always wears a skirt down past her knees, but not so long to keep her from walking with a purposed stride. Ms. Ellen always has a covering…

BESIDES HIMSELF, WE ARE God’s only audio visual here on earth. Some people have a hard time receiving a gift. Especially, some men. It’s hard sometimes to see that the gift being handed to you, from another person, is actually a gift from God. We are His delivery system. Maybe we have a hard time…

BOB DYLAN ONCE WROTE A MASTERPIECE called ‘Desolation Row.’ In that song Dylan writes of ‘ a blind commissioner tied to a tightrope walker, of a moaning Romeo, Cain, and Able, The Good Samaritan, The Hunch Back of Notre Dame, Einstein disguised as Robin Hood, the Phantom of the Opera, a spoon fed Casanova, complete…

I always find writing, in the end, to be my favorite medium of communication. Writing slows us down momentarily long enough to think, and question what it is we truly want to say. Consequently when writing through the process we discover who we are, or at the least, reminders of who we have been. These…

WHEN I WAS A YOUNG BOY my family lived between Salt Lake City, Utah and the base of the Wasatch Mountains that surrounded the city. I think even at a young age I was able to appreciate the beauty that was immediately outside my front door. Perhaps at that time, around the age of four…

Born from the breath of God, sparked in the hearts of man, a promise held, lost, forgotten, reclaimed, gated and confined. Tables turned, sacrifices set free,The dregs of society welcomed, a following, a showing, a learning, a growing.Stones rolled away,Keys handed over, an invitation to taste and see, The Kingdom of God. So It Begins…